Finders Keepers
under slate Drumheller skies
we seek the past–
not the outsized pomp and glory
of dino bone, just
ancient oysters, hidden fossil
beds we long to un-tuck, to un-sheet
it is late afternoon, the sun
a rumour now, badland winds
our chorus; our guidebook
as vague as the sky,
your hopeful smile
guide enough for me
rock-hug succulents and cacti
drink the air as we pass, and I thirst
for a kiss, hugging the flesh
on your bones, our tongues explore,
finders keepers
minutes later you spot our first
find of the new century–
on a scree-filled hill aspiring to cliff
you’ve kicked up oyster traces,
your gleeful shouts a songline
in this winded world
packs soon bulging with oyster plunder
we consummate this Ordovician afternoon
doffing our many layers
we make love on the rocks,
on these oyster beds,
the blush-red bloom of Ball Cacti
prickly voyeurs to the action,
our sweat and wet a memory
tease of sea-swallowing days
~ Ben Murray
Ben Murray is an Edmonton-based writer whose poetry has appeared in many journals, including Descant, Event, Grain, CV2, Queen’s Quarterly, and The Windsor Review. A debut poetry collection, What We’re Left With, is forthcoming this fall from Brindle & Glass.
Rob Omura on September 16th, 2007 at Said:
This one was sensual. Interesting contrast of rock and sea, time transient. Nice.
The Archer on December 14th, 2008 at Said:
Great moment.Good experience.Well expressed.